


Rain

by Parizaad (orphan_account)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Parizaad
Summary: The exorcism is long overdue, the macabre is heavyweight on his heart and church bell sing: the victor’s loses are as great as those defeated. Sort of an AU. L/Light.





	

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT : wow this is old and probably crap

  
"Mad in pursuit and in possession so;  
Had, having, and in quest to have extreme;  
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;" 

.

Light stares through the silver miasma of the beating rain. The soles of his shoes are already damp and when he holds up his hand, the clean files of his fingertips are a choking blue. He walks right into the rain, and he admits, it’s cold and piercing through his relatively thin shirt. Not entirely uncomfortable, the rapt pittar-patter against the concrete, no matter how trite it may seem, sounds soothing.

The lean shadow against the pale streak of the beating water doesn’t shift a breath. So he calls out, slow, and testing.

“Ryuzaki.”

L turns then, deep black hair plastered to his face, paler than the rain, and those probing eyes. Light has never quite decided the color of them, they are dark yes, with strings of cerulean with a certain glassy and smooth quality to them. He had stared into them, with their breaths mingling and their palms clenched against each other, nails biting into the sheets, chains clinking with the rush of their climax. When he had forgotten of his divine duty, he had wondered that the color had a dewy, mirror edge to them. Unknown, indistinct. And that he could stare into them all day.

That night in the helicopter, his finger prickled and welled with blood and power rushing through his veins with a flourish of his hands, Light had looked into those eyes and felt they were pithless, black, black, black. 

L glances at him. Smiles dryly. Cocks his head to a side, and his voice is the same he uses for Light. Soft.

“Light-kun.”

L turns away again. His eyes, yet again trained on Tokyo’s dripping skyline. The city looks bleary. Sunken avenues and gray lights. Despite himself, he watches L’s hair clinging to the pale slope of his neck and the cage of his rising bones breathing with the rain from the corner of his eyes.

“Do you hear the bells, Light-kun? They are unbearably loud today.”

He hardly thinks. “I don’t hear them, Ryuzaki.” Through his carefully modulated voice, Light might be sounding weary, sad even. If anyone ever asked, he’d tell them they’d been misinformed. But he was always a good liar.

“I’ve been hearing them all day.” The corner of those blued lips rise. “I wonder…”

He swipes his thumb against his lower lip, smiling again.

“If they’re funeral bells or…wedding bells.” He turns to Light, and he just shrugs. But it gnaws at him. _It is ours. Both._ But he doesn’t voice it. He was never the one for words which were meant to be wasted.  
“What are you thinking, Light-kun?” His pale tapered fingers rise, resting against Light’s jaw.

“Nothing, Ryuzaki.” Light shakes his head, shifting to his caustic remarks immediately then, “You’re crazy, standing in the rain like that. Just come inside.” He pauses, it’s hardly anything but. Light must be losing it a little himself too.

“Ah, but Light-kun is standing with me all this time. A little ironic, no?”

He’s not talking about the rain anymore and the calm timbre of his voice makes Light close his eyes for a brief moment.

“Ryuzaki, please.”  


L’s hand falls and he is stepping away. Light stands still, unsure, his hand unconsciously massaging his wrist where he was bound to L only a few weeks ago. Bound to him. Bound to Ryuzaki. To L.

L’s usual cotton shirt is sticking to him and his loose worn-blue denim, making puddles on the azure marble floor. He has his usual, clean-slate expression on, but even Light can make out the blue tinge that coats his sickly pale skin.

“I am sorry that Light-kun has gotten all wet. It must be cold.”

Light laughs bitterly, “Stop it, Ryu-“

“No. Call me L. I want you to call me L, Light-kun.”

Light considers this. Walking upto L, he looks hard at him. “L.” He says, tasting the word. He wonders why. Does L wish his enemy to acknowledge him? An open, palpable weight strains the cold air between them. He wishes again and again to close the distance. For them to clash once more. Kira and L. Light and Ryuzaki.

It is L, not Light who walks over the thin hairline hesitancy, crashing into him and aligning Light’s saccharine leer against the grim line of his mouth. They both well know the taste of each other, the feel of each other and while L’s fingers thread in his wet hair, Light leans in. It’s a cruel hoax, how they start to kiss each other oh-so delicate and tender. He cups the base of L’s skull, twining his tongue with L’s, he worships L’s lips.

L is worthy of a god’s prayer.

“L-“ A shuddering breath, his body molding into L’s, “I-“ Light quakes against him, the sick mimicry of a being strangled and L just takes him deeper into his arms, kissing rapt passion, swallowing his words.

“No, Light-kun.” L orders. He twists up, his hands pressing to Light’s hips, licking and kissing with a starved hunger.

“I l-love you,” Light breaths, the weak chink in the armor snaps because it is unabashed truth. A god falling for a mortal ended in skies tearing apart and blood watering earth. There is no pity for L in Light’s heart, he is a god and L denies his divine. Light is crying, but maybe just so, the skies has found it fit to mourn with him.

With a sibilant hiss of his breath, L is tearing through his shirt. Scraping fingernails and baring teeth. But then a low-growl of a moan lilts from his parted lips as he throws his head back as Light worries the sensitive skin of L’s neck, scraping between teeth and then kissing the nascent bruise gently.  


The rain is down to a gentle mizzle, and L is suddenly stepping away.

“You’re shivering, Light-kun. Please come with me.” His hand rises, clenching in Light’s and Light limply allows L to drag him, a dripping heap of shivers and skin. Inside it is slightly warm and L is rubbing a pique towel through Light’s hair but he is just peering up at L, a blockage in his throat at the loft rush of delight of seeing L’s lips red and raw and the bruise at his swan-like neck. Kissed and marked by him. _His, his, his._

They could rule Kira’s perfect utopia together. Together they will be invincible, immortal. But then L pressing gentle touches down the length of his spine and is whispering hotly into Light’s ear,

“There is an eighty-one percent chance that you are Kira.” He kisses the lobe of his ear gently. Silence ensues and Light realizes L is not going to elaborate himself.

“What is your game, L?” Light follows quietly, the silver puddles at L’s feet ripple ever so slightly. Light feels L smile against his ear and then his chin rests at his shoulder. His lips tracing the spot behind Light’s ear, lax and almost teasing. A lover’s caress before one slits the throat.

“L Lawliet.” It is barely audible but Light hears it and starts. Another feathery kiss. “Do you understand Light-kun?”

L’s breath is gentle as the caress of butterfly wings and his fingers are all the while, painful, biting into Light’s shoulder. “Do you understand?” He murmurs again.

L stands, spontaneously, and doesn’t look back once as he walks away.  


For a moment, Light is only aware of the sunlight, pale and white as the chidden of God filtering through the chipped glass pane of the wide windows. The hollowed drips of chilled water. The cold in his bones. The tingle of his skin where L had kissed him.

And when he understands- _when he understands-_

He screams.

.

_Arms close around him. The body is limp after the spasm, the living breath is drawing out of him. Lantern bright eyes are damp, looking into dark mirror eyes. “I didn’t write your name. I didn’t write your name. I **didn’t** write your name.” The mad-man chant is his fault. The end did not come directly by his hands, after all, but oh the tightening of his chest and the slip of his life through his fingertips. The exorcism is long overdue, the macabre is heavyweight on his heart and church bell sing: the victor’s loses are as great as those defeated._

_Victory is a bitter taste in his mouth as he convulses and succumbs to death, in the arms of Kira, the shunned god._

_The bells are deafening._

.

  
"Before, a joy proposed; behind a dream.  
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well  
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell." 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback pwetty please?


End file.
